Ortiz is a poem I wrote for the great David Ortiz; number 34 on the Red Sox. He is a man that I have loved since I was a little girl; in fact, on my little league baseball card, under my favorite player it says his name. I attended his last home game in the regular season against the New York Yankees, and it was an incredible experience. I decided to write a poem that encaptured my experience at the game mixed in with my experiences as a lifelong fan.
Thank you David Ortiz for being an incredible man, and ball player, who I could always look up to.
Ortiz
In the city I was born you
found a home among a team
that has reserved a special
place in the hearts of many.
Your official citizenship,
“This is our f*cking city,”
you became an irreplaceable
member of our family.
We watched every moment
gave you our greatest respect,
you will always be admired
by young fans worldwide.
At Fenway against our greatest
rivals I stood among the crowd
as you walked onto the field,
the energy overtaking us.
Phones focused on you,
lights shining like stars,
you swung your bat,
business as usual.
Three strikes and an out,
but it didn’t matter to us,
we cried, yelled, reminisced,
even the Yankees fans smiled.
Respect is what you always
gave and what we tried to
return for all that you’ve
done for Red Sox Nation.
So thank you Big Papi;
your number has been retired,
your last game has been played,
your name will soon be inducted,
And maybe,
just maybe,
a title will
be won.
